


The Second-Youngest Professor

by Chickenpets



Series: The Lost and the Found [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Auror Trainee Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Severus Snape, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter, Hair-pulling, M/M, Post-War, Reconciliation, Scars, Severus Snape Lives, Top Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chickenpets/pseuds/Chickenpets
Summary: “You’re telling me you wouldn’t let me?” Harry asked, and Severus felt just then that he would let Harry Potter do absolutely anything to him. “And you call mePotter.”“Habit,” he gasped back.***One-shot. Snape and Harry meet at a memorial two years after the final battle. And then they meet again, three years later. And then four years. And then Harry asks him out to the Hog's Head, and things get out of hand.Featuring: Hot Auror Harry. Oh no.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: The Lost and the Found [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595656
Comments: 54
Kudos: 1033





	The Second-Youngest Professor

The first time Severus saw Harry Potter, the man, it was at a memorial service two years after the final battle. It was the first ceremony he had attended, and he was only at this one because Minerva had come and ousted him from Spinner’s End, and demanded that he show his face. That he was disfigured, that he had not shown his face anywhere outside of Hogwarts School since leaving St. Mungo’s, she did not seem to care. So, he went. And after the ceremony (an uncomfortable spectacle of doves and flowers and weeping), he’d gone to the blasted reception. And at the reception, Harry Potter had seen him, and had approached him.

“Professor Snape,” he said, and held out his hand to shake. He had a little stubble of beard on his chin, and no glasses, and Severus felt a bizarre shiver of nervous tension as he reached out to grasp his hand.

“Potter,” he said. And Harry smiled at him.

“It’s good to see you. You look well.” Severus scowled.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughed. “You’re alive.” And then someone pulled him away into the crowd, and Severus was left standing there, alone, feeling like he’d seen a ghost. Well, maybe not a ghost. Potter had seemed very solid. 

The second time Severus saw Harry Potter, the man, it was an entire year later, a year to the day in fact, at yet another memorial service. This time, Severus had attended with the vague idea of seeing him again. To see if he had continued to change. If he had, perhaps, transformed again, into something new. Grown a second head or a third arm. But this time he looked much the same. Scruffy, glasses-less, and fit, and so charismatic that he seemed to have an electric charge. Severus watched him during the memorial, surrounded by officials and veterans of the war, and looking very serious. Harry did not see him, though. Not until the reception. And this time, at the reception, the mood was quite different. Maybe it was because everyone was drunk. Or maybe it was because Severus was drunk.

“Hello again, Professor Snape,” Harry said. 

“Severus,” Severus corrected him, and held out his champagne flute to cheers. Harry’s eyes crinkled and he clinked their glasses together. He stayed to chat, and this time no one came to spirit him away, though a few people attempted to join in their conversation. Severus was somewhat gratified to see that he still held the power to make people uncomfortable, even now that everyone knew he was a _‘hero'._ Well, not Potter. Other people. Potter seemed quite happy to speak to him. 

After a while, they went outside into the mild summer air, and away from the steam-heat of the party. Why three years seemed to be the boundary of solemnity for these people, Severus had no idea. The last reception had felt like a wake. This one felt like a bloody wedding. 

The terrace was quite empty, and Severus felt himself relax a little as the raucous voices from inside grew faint.

“So, I heard you are back in your old position of Potions Master,” Harry said to him.

“Yes. I didn’t find the duties of Headmaster all that fulfilling,” Severus answered.

“I always had a hard time imagining you addressing the school at large.” Harry said it with a little chuckle, and tipped his champagne in Severus’ direction. “You aren’t quite as festive as Dumbledore was.”

“No,” Severus agreed. “No ‘ _pip-pip_ ’ from me, certainly. And no _‘tweak_.’” Harry laughed again, and Severus found that he liked hearing his laughter. It was good to know that after all that had happened, he still had laughter inside of him. “I read in the gossip column that you are in Auror training.”

“The gossip column?” Another laugh. 

“And that you’re top of your class.”

“I’m in the top five percent. Not _the top_ ,” Harry corrected him. “They’ll write anything in the papers these days.” 

Severus had also read in the gossip column that Harry Potter had been voted Most Eligible Bachelor two years in a row. He didn’t like to be photographed, though. At least that’s how it seemed.

“I don’t think I ever got a chance to thank you,” Harry was saying. 

“For what?” Severus asked.

“For saving my life,” Harry answered, and leaned back against the balustrade.

“Which time?” Severus asked back, pulling another very charming chuckle out of him.

“Pick one,” he laughed. “And I’ll say thank you.”

“Hm,” Severus swirled his champagne. “I choose… trying to keep Quirrel from knocking you off your broom.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Next?”

“Well… sending the Order after you in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Thank you.”

“Brewing fake veritaserum for Umbridge.”

Harry laughed again, and tossed his head back, and Severus felt his insides give an uncomfortable little squeeze.

“Did you?” he asked.

“I did.”

“Merlin, how much simpler everything would have been if I’d trusted you then.”

“Different, certainly. Maybe not simpler.”

“Well, thank you. And thank you for making the fake sword, and delivering the real sword, and for showing me what I had to do to defeat Voldemort.” He was counting on his fingers. “And for almost dying for me.” Severus leaned against the balustrade, too, and regarded him steadily.

“I think I did,” he said. “Die for you, that is.”

Harry’s expression became serious. “Did you see the light?”

“What light?”

“When I died, I was inside a bright white light. Like being in the center of a _lumos_.”

Severus just looked at him, standing there, alive, and was struck with a mad urge. And maybe it was the champagne, but he didn’t think it through. He just did it. He reached out a hand and touched Harry’s face - brushing his thumb over his cheekbone and cupping his jaw. Harry’s brows drew down in confusion, and eyes flickered over Severus’ face - and Severus was sure that he was about to pull away - but then he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes, and turned into the touch, and Severus felt his lips brush against the center of his palm. A loud group of witches and wizards burst out of the doors just then, and he jerked his hand back.

“Thank you,” Harry murmured, and Severus saw that he was blushing. Or maybe it was the alcohol. “For all that.”

“Not to worry, Potter. We both lived, in the end.”

“Harry,” Harry said.

“Harry,” Severus answered, and looked out over the dark garden. Someone had placed small twinkling lights in the trees, and the effect was quite lovely. And when Severus turned back, Harry had gone. 

The third time, it was at Hogwarts. At an interview for Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. And Harry Potter was the applicant. 

“Hullo… Severus,” he said, and shook his hand. The way he said his name it sounded like he’d practiced it. 

“Harry,” Severus said. “Welcome back to Hogwarts.”

Harry got the job, as Severus knew he would. And after, Harry asked Severus if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade for a celebratory drink. And Severus said yes. He dressed in a high collar, as he always did, to hide his scars, and they went to the Hog’s Head, and Harry went to the bar, and Severus went to a booth, and when Harry returned he had two glasses of whisky on the rocks.

“I didn’t know what you drink, so I just got you what I like to drink. I hope you don’t mind.” Severus took the glass he was offered.

“Spot-on,” he responded, and held it up to cheers. Harry obliged him, and then sat. 

“Well, I certainly hope the Defense Position isn’t cursed anymore,” he said, and took a sip. “I’d like to stay for a good long time.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Severus answered. “Not now.”

“Professor McGonagall … I mean … Minerva told me that I’ve only just missed beating you as the youngest professor ever appointed.”

“I was twenty-one,” Severus answered.

“And I am twenty-two. Blast. Should have come last year.” 

Severus sipped his drink and let his eyes travel over Harry’s face. He was clean-shaven, today, possibly because of the interview, and was wearing a tailored tweed jacket over a forest green T-shirt. Twenty-two. How time flies. “You should have waited longer. You are in for a challenging time of it.”

“And why is that? You think I don’t know my subject?”

“I know you do. But you’re only four years older than your seventh-years. And much, much too handsome to frighten them off of you. Be prepared for two hundred glazed stares.”

Harry almost spat out his drink, and then coughed.

“What? Come on. I’m not that handsome.” Severus raised an eyebrow.

“No? What sort of mirror do you have?”

“Me? Prof - Severus. I’m just a speccy little twerp like I always have been.”

“How tall are you?”

“One seventy-eight.”

“And where are your glasses?”

“Well, I don’t wear them anymore.” Severus just looked silently at him until he turned pink and ran his hand through his hair.

“My hair is still untameable.”

“Yes it is,” Severus allowed. “Like you just stepped off your broom. You’re a celebrity, Harry. And you look like one. Maybe you should put your glasses back on.” He almost said something about his body - about how he moved like he was restraining himself, but withheld it. Instead, he sipped his drink, and, feeling bold, did not look away from him. Harry’s color deepened. “And you’re single, as far as I am aware,” he finished. “You’ll need a security detail. Just wait.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure I can handle it.” Harry took off his jacket, and folded his arms on the table, and Severus had the very distinct impression that he’d done it on purpose. Though why he would have, he could not guess.

They spoke a little about the final battle, and about how sure Harry had been that Severus was dead, and how sure everyone else had been that Harry was dead. They spoke about Severus’ trial before the Wizengamot, and about how Harry had testified for him, which Severus had not known. They spoke about the horcruxes, and Nagini, and Neville Longbottom, and then Harry had gone for another round, and when he came back, he asked to see Severus’ scars. Severus said no.

“Hey, at least it isn’t on your forehead,” Harry said.

“It’s worse than you think. It’s … bad.”

“I figured it must be. You’re always so covered.”

“You don’t want to see it.”

Harry sat back in his seat, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I do though. I really do.” 

Severus scowled. Well, if anyone should be allowed to see them, perhaps it was Harry. He was the reason Severus had these scars in the first place. And he was, apparently, the reason Severus wasn’t in prison. 

He looked away, and brought his hands up to his collar. Keeping his gaze fixed on the dirty wood floor, he undid three buttons and pulled the fabric aside. He stayed like that until he heard a short intake of breath, then, his face hot, he fastened his buttons back up and gathered his courage.

Harry’s face, when he looked back, did not show disgust. It showed… well. Severus didn’t know what sort of expression that was. He’d never seen anyone look at him quite like that before. He saw Harry’s adam’s apple bob, and looked into his drink.

“That,” Harry began quietly, “Is quite a scar.”

“Indeed,” Severus answered, and cleared his throat. “They tell me it will stay red like this for years. Maybe forever.”

“Who says?”

“The healers at St. Mungo’s. They told me it was a miracle that the fangs didn’t puncture my esophagus. If it had, I wouldn’t have been able to ingest the antivenin or the blood replenishment potions. I would have died. Bled to death right there in the shrieking shack. What irony that would have been.”

“You almost died in there three separate times. Cursed place.”

“Mm.”

Severus found himself struggling to meet his eyes, remembering suddenly how he had demanded to see them in what he thought were his last moments. And then he thought of touching his face, last year, and how Harry hadn’t pulled away. How he’d turned into Severus’ hand, and closed his eyes. Harry tipped his coaster onto its end and balanced it there with one finger, and Severus looked at that, instead.

“Would you like another?” Harry asked, and then paused. “Or shall we go?”

“Where are you staying?” Severus asked, and then did look up at him, and met his eyes, and he knew that Harry was remembering the last time they met, too. Why did he ask where he was staying? Why did he ask that?

“Oh, at the Inn down the street,” he answered. “It’s not far.”

“Perhaps I might walk you.” What was he expecting? An awkward handshake goodbye, maybe.

“Yeah, alright. That would be nice.”

They made it about ten meters out the door, before Harry seized his shoulders. A spike of panic lanced through him as he hit the wall, and then dissolved, melted like hot wax, really, as Harry’s mouth met his. And Severus, lord help him, let out a sound he would never admit to in the daylight, and pressed his palms flat to the stones against his back. When Harry pulled away, he stayed like that, flat, eyes wide, still as a statue.

“What are you doing?” he managed. 

“Did you not want me to do that?” Harry asked, frowning. “It felt like you did.”

Severus blinked at him once, and then grabbed the front of his shirt, jerking him back in, seizing the back of his neck, and kissing him. Harry’s mouth opened, and Severus felt a moan vibrate out from the depths of his chest, and then all at once, Severus found his wrists pinned to the stones like the rest of him. And that was not a feeling he had ever felt before - so hard, so suddenly, that he was lightheaded.

Harry stayed like that, squeezing his wrists, as he broke the kiss and turned his face against Severus’ neck, over his collar, over the scar underneath. 

“Am I taking you back to my room?” he breathed.

“I - think you are.” He felt Harry’s exhale hot on his skin as he laughed softly.

“I am, aren’t I?” And he pulled back, and pulled Severus by the hand. And Severus followed him, stunned, helpless, and frankly terrified, as they made their way through the winding streets to a small and unassuming inn. Harry had been right. It wasn’t far.

Inside Harry’s room, which was shabby and rather small, Severus turned around to face him, and immediately found his back up against the door. And he liked that, a lot. Which he did not know about himself.

“You’re far more aggressive than I thought you’d be,” he gasped.

“Thought about fucking me a lot, have you?” Harry asked, kissing him again, sliding one hand deep into Severus’ hair and fisting it, using his grip to tilt his head. And Severus made one of those noises again. Undignified. He raised his hands and pushed Harry off of him.

“Why do you want to do this?” he asked. Harry twisted his mouth.

“I dunno,” he said, “I just do.” He tried to lean back in but Severus held him at bay.

“I’m old enough to be your father,” he said.

“My father was really young,” Harry answered, and this time, Severus didn’t stop him. He pressed closer, pinning Severus against the door with his body, and sliding a knee between his legs. When he felt Severus hard against his thigh be gave a low hum of satisfaction. The sound of it made Severus feel hot and then cold, like he had a fever.

“Harry, Merlin,” Severus’ hands came up to grab at him. “I think I’m hallucinating. Did you poison my drink?” Harry pulled him away from the wall and pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, of course not,” he said. And then, pointing his wand at him, “I’m taking this off of you.” The buttons down the front of Severus’ coat all fell open at once, and Harry pushed it off his shoulders. Severus leaned forward, allowing him to take it down his arms, and rested his forehead on Harry’s taut abdomen. There was very little give, and Severus wondered what his body looked like, now. Now that he was so - outgoing. Not that he’d seen it before. When his jacket was off, Harry started on his shirt, and Severus stilled his hand. 

“No,” he started.

“Going to stop me, now?” Harry asked him, and tilted Severus’ chin up to kiss him. Severus felt his resistance crumble almost immediately. Maybe he _was_ hallucinating. Or dreaming. What a humiliating dream this would be.

“Just - don’t be shocked.”

“Alright. I’ll hold it in,” Harry answered, the ghost of a laugh in his voice. “And you, don’t be shocked, either. I’m not exactly unmarked. Here, I’ll go first.” He stepped back, shrugged his coat to the floor, and reached behind him to pull his t-shirt over his head. Severus’ mouth dropped open. He must have gone all the way through Auror training. Top of his class. Because playing Quidditch certainly wouldn’t be enough to make your body look like _that._

“Potter,” he breathed, and Harry moved back to stand between his legs. 

“Don’t _‘Potter’_ me,” he said, and his voice was hard. Severus reached out a hand to touch him, running his fingers over a long, thin scar on his belly, just above his navel.

“Sorry,” he said, and licked his lips. Harry grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

“You know how much I hated you?” he demanded. 

“Yes,” Severus whispered.

“It was too much. It made no sense.” He started undoing the buttons at his throat, and Severus stood still and let him, and when he opened his shirt and pushed it the floor, he let him do that, too. “And - after the battle - you were gone. And then when I saw you at the reception, I had a different feeling. Strong. But not hate.”

Severus sucked in a gasp as his fingers touched the twisted ridges of the scars on his neck, and followed them down his chest. It was the poison that made it scar like that - that’s what the healers had told him. The cords of keloided tissue twining down his arm, and over his shoulder. Harry’s touch was careful, but his hands were not soft. They were calloused, and rough. Working hands. Goosebumps cascaded down his back.

“You finished Auror training, didn’t you?” Severus asked, apropos of nothing. Harry looked into his eyes.

“Yeah I did,” he said, and dropped his hands to Severus’ belt.

“Why not become an Auror, then? You look like one. You - ” _feel like one._

“Mm,” Harry murmured. “During the training, I realized I didn’t want to fight anymore. No more killing. Never again, if I can help it.” He dropped to his knees. “I’m not interested in violence. Not of that kind, anyway.” Severus’ vision wavered. He was tipsy, but not drunk. It was the sight of Harry on his knees, drawing all of the blood out of his brain, that did that to him. Harry’s fingers undid his buttons and drew his slacks down over his hips, and then his underwear.

“I am definitely not supposed to be doing this,” Severus said, his voice sounding shaky to his own ears.

“Why?” Harry asked, breath ghosting over Severus’ cock, his green eyes turned up. “I’m not your student anymore. Haven’t been for years.”

“Now you’re my - Merlin - my colleague.”

“Ha,” Harry laughed softly. “Gonna get me fired on my first day?” He flicked out his tongue, and Severus slid one hand into his hair, and then shuddered hard as Harry’s lips slid along his shaft. He shuddered even harder as Harry opened his mouth, taking just the head inside and swirling his tongue around it. Harry looked up at him again. His eyes were serious as he pulled off.

“Why don’t you, _sit._ ” He pushed Severus back to the edge of the bed, and then turned his attention back between Severus’ legs, and Severus was suddenly very sure that he was going to come early. _Really_ early. He fisted his hand in Harry’s wild black hair and held him off. 

“P- Harry,” he gasped. “I’m afraid I’ll - ”

“So do,” Harry interrupted him, and twisted Severus’ hand out of his hair - the move was bloody _military_ \- and forced it down to the bed. He took Severus all the way to the base, until the head of his cock hit the back of his throat, and he swallowed _._

“ _Fuck_ ,” Severus moaned, and curled his hands into the threadbare blanket underneath him, pressing up with his legs. Harry’s other hand clamped down on his hip, holding him still. Merlin, he was so _strong_. “Harry, _god._ ” Harry moaned low in his throat, and the vibration tipped him right over the edge. “I’m - _oh - ”_

Harry swallowed again as he spilled himself, and again, digging his fingers hard into Severus’ hip, and his wrist, and lord in heaven, he didn’t _stop_.

“Oh, _Merlin_ , please - ” and then, at his words, he did stop, pulling off and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he sat up a little taller, pressed a kiss to Severus’ sternum, and pushed him flat to his back. Severus lay there, dazed, as Harry undid the laces of his boots and pulled them off his feet, and then his socks, and then drew his trousers the rest of the way off his legs. At the sound of Harry’s belt buckle clinking, though, he gathered his energy, and propped himself up on his elbows to see.

The muscles in Harry’s abdomen and shoulders shifted and bunched as he removed the rest of his clothes and cast them aside. Naked, he looked like a statue. A warm, living statue, with scars, and a very appealing trail of black hair leading down to a thick, curved cock. He had a tattoo, too, on his hip. A phoenix.

“Look at you,” Severus said. “Who are you?”

“Me?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m a war hero, I dunno.” He flicked his wand and a small bottle flew from his duffle to his hand. “And I’m a Hogwarts Professor, as of today.” Then he looked down at Severus, propped up on his elbows, and Severus felt that tingle of anticipation again - so sharp it was almost fear. “Face down or face up?” Harry asked. Severus flushed.

“I take it you’ve done this before,” he said. Harry’s mouth twisted up into a smirk.

“Yeah,” he said, “I have.” Severus scooted further up the bed towards to pillows, and beckoned to him, and Harry crawled, catlike, over his body. “Face up, hm?” he murmured against Severus’ mouth. 

“No,” Severus answered. “But I wanted you to kiss me.” and Harry did kiss him, ferociously, and then tapped his fingers against the side of Severus’ face. 

“Turn over then.” The tone of his voice sent a little sizzle of arousal down Severus’ spine, though he hadn’t recovered quite well enough to get hard again. Not yet. He shifted carefully onto his stomach, caged between Harry’s arms, and once he was settled, Harry bit him gently on the shoulder. At the sound Severus made, he did it again, a little harder. “You seem like you like to be treated badly, Severus,” he breathed. 

“You are impossibly confident,” Severus shot back, and let out a little yelp as Harry bit him again, more sharply, under his jaw, sucking on his skin, and trailing one slick finger between his legs. He was cautious, and gentle, and Severus started to get annoyed as his fingers gently circled his hole but did not move farther. “Are you going to fuck me or what?” he demanded. Harry laughed against his skin, and began to press one finger inside. Severus shivered underneath him and he laughed again, but it wasn’t unkind. It seemed like maybe he laughed when he was excited. Severus dropped his head, and spread his legs wider, until they met the insides of harry’s knees straddling him. A second finger joined the first, and scissored gently, and Severus hissed at the discomfort of it. It had been a while - years - since anyone had done this to him. It took a moment to adjust to the stretch. Harry’s breath against his back quickened.

“This feels very forbidden,” he said, and kissed the scars cascading down his shoulder blade. 

“Ah - sucking me off didn’t?” Severus turned his face towards the pillows and closed his eyes. 

“Not like this,” Harry breathed, and crooked his fingers gently inside him. Severus jerked. Whatever Harry Potter had been doing for the last few years, he’d been doing this a lot. “Feels good?” he asked. Fucking cocky little bastard.

“I think you know it does. That’s enough.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Severus said, and felt Harry shifting his weight, and heard him pouring out more lubricant from the bottle. Then he said it again, as he felt Harry’s cock, hard, and hot, sliding against his entrance. “ _Yes_.”

Harry’s hands slid down to his hips to hold him steady, as he began to press inside. He was gentle, again, moving steadily, and Severus pushed back against him, forcing him in faster. He almost regretted it - there was some pain - but the noise Harry made was worth it.

“Severus _fuck,_ ” he grunted, holding him tightly with both hands to keep him still. He withdrew and pressed back in again, slow, measured, and Severus tried to do it again, but without much leverage now that Harry was expecting it. Harry seemed to be willing to give him what he wanted, though, and the next thrust was a little faster, and a lot harder. Severus slapped one hand against the headboard, pressing his lips together against a wretched moan of pleasure.

“I thought you’d like it rough,” Harry said, voice low, finding a rhythm, a slow drag out, and a hard, sharp thrust in.

“Thought about fucking me a lot, have you?” Severus snarled.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured. “Since last year. When you touched my cheek. I’ve thought about it a few times. Let me know if my intuition is wrong.” He gathered Severus’ hair into a ponytail in his fist and twisted hard, pinning his head to the bed. Severus gasped and let out a truly humiliating cry. Loud, and choked off as he tried to control himself. “Oh, Merlin, that’s _good,”_ Harry moaned, bearing down on him, fucking him harder. He leaned over to bite down on Severus’ unscarred shoulder again, and this time he did not hold back. Severus gasped again, clutching the bedframe.

“Your intuition is - right on target,” he managed, and reached back to grab Harry’s hand around his hair. “Tug back.”

“Mm.” Harry didn’t tug, he yanked, jerking Severus up onto his hands. “Like this?”

“Oh, _fuck._ ” 

“Are you hard?” he asked. “You sound hard, Professor.”

He was hard. He was so hard he was _leaking._

“Don’t call me Professor,” Severus said. 

“Be hot if you were, though,” Harry answered. “Maybe I can get on my knees in your office, later. Put on some Gryffindor robes?”

“That - ” Severus strangled on his words as Harry gave a particularly vicious thrust. “Is fucking perverted, Potter.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t let me?” Severus felt just then that he would let Harry Potter do absolutely anything to him. “And you call me _Potter.”_

“Habit,” Severus gasped back. “Oh, _harder.”_ Harry went still.

“I want you on your back,” he said.

“Fine,” Severus burst out. “Fine, whatever you want. Just - fucking - _god_.” Harry pulled out and flipped him over, seizing his legs and hooking one over his elbow and the other over his shoulder. Harry looked into his eyes, and Severus wanted to shrink back into the bed at the intensity.

“You want harder?” he asked. 

“Fuck me,” Severus breathed. “Do your worst. The way you look, I bet you could - ” he did not have a chance to finish his thought as Harry drove back into him, hard, on the edge of brutality, punching the air out of his lungs. “ _Oh_ \- _god -_ who have you been doing this to?”

“Why do you care?”

“I spent seven years protecting you - what do you expect?”

Harry’s only answer was to kiss him, and then to fold him almost in half, reaching one hand between them to wrap around his cock. Severus dug his nails into Harry’s shoulders, curling up off the bed at the overload of sensation.

“Harry,” he gasped. “Harry, _Merlin_.”

“Never thought I’d see you so - undone,” he growled. “Even on the ground, bleeding, you weren’t like this.”

“Stop TALKING.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, and truly laid into him. He worked one arm underneath Severus’ hips to tilt them up, and oh, lord, that was _perfect._

Severus curled up again with a desperate moan, and Harry pressed his mouth to his calf, hooked over his shoulder, and he was coming, coming so hard that he went momentarily deaf, and he heard Harry’s voice from what seemed like a mile a way.

“Can I - come - inside you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he gasped back, aftershocks ricocheting through him, “yes - I want you to - yes.”

“ _Ff- fuck_ \- oh - _Severus -_ ” Harry’s thrusts grew ragged, syncopated, and short, and Severus knew that he was coming too, and saying his name like that - and - oh hell, it was _unbearable_. He dragged his nails down Harry’s back, and Harry made a sound like he’d been stabbed, and his hips stuttered forward once, twice more, and then he collapsed, only barely catching himself on one arm. Panting hard, he let Severus’ legs fall back to the bed, and dropped his head, resting it on Severus’ chest. His breath cooled the sweat on Severus’ skin. “Ok?” he asked, after a moment.

“What kind of question is that?” Severus breathed, and touched his shoulder, sliding his fingers up into his hair. He said it to make Harry laugh again, and he did, with barely enough air to make it audible. When he pulled out, Severus did not succeed in holding back his yelp. 

“ _Scourgify_ ,” Harry said, and then lay beside him. Severus turned his head to look at him. “What?” 

“If I wake up in my bed and this was a dream I think I’ll go mad,” Severus said. Harry pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and then tapped the spot, and Severus looked down to see a set of pink teeth marks. 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” he said, and propped up on his elbow. “I might have a hard time looking you in the eye in the great hall for a while, though. I’m not usually this forward.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “That sounds like a despicable lie to me.”

“I’m serious! Usually people are following _me_ around. I haven’t asked someone out for _ages._ ”

“Oh, is that what this was? A date?”

Harry blushed, which seemed ridiculous to Severus. How he dared being embarrassed after what he’d just done was a fucking mystery.

“Well,” Harry began, and stretched sinuously. “I mean, pub, drinks, night time walk, blow job, hair pulling. Sounds like a date to me.” Severus snorted and sat up. 

“I should go,” he said. Harry sat up too, looking disappointed. “I’m not spending the night in this twin bed, Potter,” he added. Harry scowled at him.

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” 

Severus picked his clothes up from the floor and began to dress. “Oh, is the Gryffindor role-play off the table, then?” he asked snidely, buttoning his trousers. Harry leaned back against the headboard, and interlaced his hands behind his head. Severus’ eyes flicked over him and he grinned.

“Nope.”

Severus shrugged into his shirt. “Then I can still call you Potter, if I want.” Harry swung his legs off the edge of the bed and _accio’d_ his own clothes, but just put on his jeans. 

“Well, I like Severus. I think I’ll call you that.”

“I suppose _Sir_ would be too obvious, now that you’re faculty.” When Severus was fully dressed, with his coat buttoned all the way up, he turned back to Harry, who was leaning against the dresser, still very shirtless.

“Was this a one-night stand?” Harry asked. Severus ran a hand through his hair, trying to make it smooth again. 

“What?” Harry stood up and walked over to him, and Severus shifted back a little as he approached. 

“Was this a one-night stand?” he asked again, more softly, reaching out to touch one finger to the row of buttons down Severus’ chest. 

“I think you’ll be the one to decide that.”

“Will I?” Harry asked, splaying his hand flat over Severus’ collarbones and pushing him gently back against the wallpaper. Severus’ lips parted around a shallow inhale. “How generous of you.” He was almost close enough to kiss, but did not close the gap. “I suppose I’ll see you at work, then, won’t I, Severus?”

“You won’t be able to get three meters into the castle without being propositioned,” Severus breathed. Harry grinned at him and opened the door.

“Guess you’ll have to scare everyone off of me, then. Thanks in advance.”

Severus made it all the way back to his rooms before catching himself in a mirror, and noticing that, though his collar was high enough to cover his scars, it was not high enough to cover the suck mark under his jaw. Fucking Harry Potter had let him walk out like that. 

Fucking Harry Potter.

  
  
  
  



End file.
